


Living In Ruins

by mangocianamarch



Series: Le Livre de L'abondance par La Dame Marciana [9]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, fem!Bilbo, gold-sick!thorin, thorin is NOT a nice person in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 18:43:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1560299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangocianamarch/pseuds/mangocianamarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From <a href="http://mangocianamarch.tumblr.com/post/74166558699/au-and-female-bilbo-the-battle-of-the-five-armies">this prompt</a>:</p>
<p>When Fili returns to Erebor, it is to a king seized with madness, a queen dancing the thin tightrope between her husband’s sanity and his madness, and a princess with her mother’s sweet smile and adventurous disposition. Thorin, caught in the throes of gold-sickness, has become possessive of all he owns, and he counts Bella amongst his most coveted possessions. Fili volunteers to become Bella’s personal bodyguard, and he tells himself it is because he loves his uncle, not his uncle’s wife.</p>
<p>SEQUEL TO "<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1203028">EXEUNT</a>."</p>
<p>
  <b>PLEASE ALWAYS READ THE NOTES BEFORE EACH CHAPTER, as chapter-specific warnings will be placed there.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> GOODNESS I FINALLY ACTUALLY STARTED WRITING THIS. I've been wanting to do this fic for the longest, LONGEST time, and for some odd reason, I pumped out two chapters in like 3 hours, woohoo, so I guess it's started now, yayyyyyyy.
> 
> **PLEASE ALWAYS READ THE NOTES AT THE START OF EACH CHAPTER.** The relationship between Thorin and Bella is going to worsen, to the point where it can be abusive in several ways, so any chapters that would be portraying that kind of thing WILL HAVE WARNINGS AT THE START OF THE CHAPTER.
> 
> **DISCLAIMER** : I own none of the characters, I make no profit off of this fic, this is just for fun (?????), and no disrespect or harm is meant to the original canon and characters as portrayed in both Tolkien's book and Peter Jackson's movies.

And so it happens that Fili, once crown prince of Erebor, former heir to the Throne Under the Mountain, spends three years outside its walls. He keeps himself busy, never staying in one place for longer than is necessary. He never gets any nearer to the mountain than Dale, or perhaps he does not allow himself to get closer than that. He spares his family only a few thoughts each day, hoping that they are all in good health and that the rebuilding is coming along fine. He never writes to them, not even to his brother. He is, however, successful in sending more able bodies both to Dale and to the mountain, and hopes that their arrivals are enough to tell those who might be worrying that he is, at the very least, still alive.

“But you cannot stay away forever,” Sigrid tells him, bringing him hot soup to keep the cold of Dale away, “you are the mountain king’s heir.”

“No longer,” Fili reminds her, nodding his gratitude at her as he takes the soup, “The Queen was with child even before they wed. I suspect the new prince or princess has been wreaking havoc even as they try to piece the rock back together.”

He sips at his soup and tries to ignore the expression on Sigrid’s face as she watches him.

“You sound so distant from it all,” she observes, if a little sadly, “do you not long for home?”

Fili lets out a small snort. “The home I remember is _very_ different,” he tells her, “I know nothing of the citadel or the palace or the mines of Erebor, other than the tales we were told as Kili and I were growing up.”

“Your family then?” Sigrid offers, “Do you not miss them?”

Fili pauses, watches his soup drip from his spoon and back into the bowl. “I cannot,” he replies, and he avoids her eyes, “They are the reason I left in the first place.”

“I don’t understand,” says Sigrid.

This time, Fili fixes her with a look. “Perhaps that would be best,” he answers, and hopes she picks up on the finality in his tone.

Her small nod tells him she did. “How long will you be staying with us?” she asks him, “We have your room prepared, as always, and if you will require a horse for when you leave, we can easily provide.”

The smile Fili gives her this time is more full, less forced. Her kindness and friendship has always been a great comfort to him. “I need time to plan the next route,” he says, “and my men deserve some time for themselves, I think.”

“There were a handful more of them before than they are now,” Sigrid agrees, “You are welcome to stay for as long as you like, of course. You are always welcome here.”

She offers him one final smile, before apologizing and taking her leave, saying she hopes to see him at dinner.

 

\--- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

“Silly Dwarf,” Sigrid tsks, “Silly, stupid, ridiculous Dwarf!”

 “Not what you were saying when I was letting you win at cards last night,” Fili snorts. Sigrid raises an eyebrow and presses the ointment-drenched cloth onto his wrecked elbow, and he lets out a sharp yelp.

“Sorry,” she says, sounding anything but, “I did say it would sting.”

“And the healer said to dab,” Fili retorts, hissing when Sigrid does just that.

It is then that Bard appears, worry written all over his face. “How is he?” he asks Sigrid.

“Very lucky to not have broken any bones,” Sigrid tells him before turning to Fili, more serious this time, “But your wound is deep. If it is to heal, it will need time. You will have to stay put until we are sure it won’t open again.”

Fili feels his face fall. “Stay put?” he echoes, “Impossible.”

“You’ve no choice in the matter, I’m afraid,” Bard insists, but not unkindly, “We are still short of medicine and supplies, and can only do so much for you. The best thing you can do to heal as quickly as possible is to not aggravate the cut.”

Fili sighs heavily. There’s a small smile fighting its way onto Sigrid’s face, and it makes Fili nearly laugh. Nearly. “I will do as you recommend then,” he tells Bard, “I know you would not lead me astray.”

“You are our friend, prince,” Bard reminds him, “We wish you only the best health and greatest successes. But you would not be quite as useful or helpful with a bum arm.”

“True,” Fili replies, “Thank you, my friend.”

“I must return to my duties,” Bard apologizes, giving Fili a little bow, which the Dwarf waves off dismissively, “Take care of him, Sig.”

Both Sigrid and Fili groan. “Take care of yourself, you silly...” she calls after him, trailing off, “That man, I swear. He thinks I’m much safer here than he is out there working with everyone to finish the city.”

“Are you not?” Fili asks, inclining his head towards his wounded arm as Sigrid finishes cleaning it off.

“Well...probably,” Sigrid relents, “But it can be so _boring_ in here, just...waiting on everybody.”

“You’re just as needed here as they are out there,” Fili assures her, “One day, you will inherit all this from him, and if I’m not mistaken, he is trying to teach you, to train you.”

“To lock myself within stone walls?” Sigrid asks, unwittingly tightening the bind on Fili’s arm a little and making him hiss, “Sorry.”

“To take care of your people,” Fili corrects her, “You were not raised under the shadow of your ancestors. Your father raised you to be strong and independent, but caring and compassionate as well. The people need to know that their rulers care about them as much as they care about what they can contribute to the wellness of the community. Bard and Bain help in the manual labor, you and your sister take care of the laborers. It helps with morale.”

“And you say you would not make a good king,” Sigrid snorts, securing the bindings around Fili’s arm.

“I was not raised to be one,” Fili shrugs.

“You just told me I wasn’t either,” Sigrid shoots back, “And yet in the same breath, you tell me I can one day be a great leader of men.”

Fili laughs. “I did, didn’t I?”

“So we’re not so different then, you and I,” Sigrid observes.

“I never thought we were,” Fili replies, and Sigrid gives him an understanding smile.

 

\--- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

Fili lets out a quiet mewl when Sigrid places the cold, wet cloth across his forehead.  “Thank you,” he breathes.

“You’re burning up,” Sigrid tells him, sounding harrowed, “I don’t understand how this could have happened. We clean that wound as thoroughly as possible.”

“You could not have known that I would have a reaction to one of the ingredients in one of the salves,” Fili tells with a slight pant, “ _I_ did not know.”

“I’m sorry,” Sigrid sighs with a shake of her head, “This should not have happened.”

“I blame no one,” Fili promises, “Least of all you.”

There is a knock on the door then, and Fili bids their newcomer enter. Bard closes the door gingerly behind him as soon as he’s inside. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Fili answers, but Sigrid tuts.

“His fever is worse than yesterday,” Sigrid tells Bard, “The infection is far worse than what our medicine and supplies can do.”

“I will be all right,” Fili tries to tell them, but he coughs rather violently. Bard shakes his head.

“Sigrid is right,” he says, “Until we have a better, easier trade route finished, our medical supplies remain limited and, in your case, woefully inadequate. If you stay and wait for stronger medicine, you may run out of time.”

Even in his fevered haze, Fili can see Sigrid avoiding _anyone_ ’s eyes. “He cannot stay here,” she says quietly.

“No, he cannot,” Bard agrees, “They will have better resources in Erebor.”

“No!” Fili protests, “There is no need for me to return to the mountain.”

“With all due respect, Fili,” Bard argues politely, “Your people are better equipped and more ready for Dwarven injuries and illnesses than our city of Men. I can escort you there myself.”

“I will go with you!” Sigrid offers immediately.

“No one is going anywhere!” Fili interjects, letting out a groan at the jerk his body gives, every joint in him on fire, “I cannot return to Erebor.”

“But you cannot stay here,” Sigrid disagrees, “You may die of this before proper medicine can reach you. The closest resource we have is Erebor, and if you, a prince of the Dwarves, relative of the King Under the Mountain himself, dies here, it could start a war, and _then_ where would we be?”

“My Uncle would not let that happen,” Fili says, but when he coughs roughly again, he misses the look Sigrid and Bard exchange.

“It is a risk the city of Dale cannot yet afford to take,” Bard points out, “If indeed it does not come to war, Erebor may still choose to punish us in different ways, and you would not be there to stop it from happening.”

“Please, Fili,” Sigrid begs, his hand gentle on hers, “ I cannot pretend to know or understand what it is that keeps you out of the home you fought so valiantly to win back, but I do know that you are my friend. You are _our_ friend, and the city owes you much. Let us do this for you, please. Let us make the effort to save you while we still have the chance.”

Fili looks from Sigrid, to Bard, to Sigrid again. She is close to tears, and her hand is shaking slightly on top of his as she tries not to squeeze it. When she next pleads him, it is barely above a whisper, as if only Fili were meant to hear her beg.

With a heavy sigh, Fili acquiesces. “All right,” he says, and Sigrid sighs in relief, “I would not be of much use to anyone half-dead, after all.”

Sigrid bends and kisses his knuckles, and Fili tsks and bats her away. “You know I hate it when you do that,” he says, and Sigrid laughs.

“We will begin making preparations,” Bard tells him, “So we can get you there as quickly as possible. Sig, write to the King’s councilor, tell him of the situation and that the King’s nephew is --”

The rest of Bard’s words are drowned out by a sudden coughing fit from Fili, and although Sigrid rubs at his back, it worsens and worsens. There is just a little bit of blood with the last few coughs, and after Sigrid gives him water to drink, Fili’s head swims.

“There may not be time for letters,” Fili hears Sigrid say, but as if from a distance, “We must go today.”

If Bard agrees, Fili does not know. His vision blurs and darkens, and then he is asleep.

 

\--- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

“...patched him up as well as we could, but the fever ...”

“...do not know when he will...”

“...the King know yet that he has...”

Something wet and cold is being pressed to Fili’s forehead gently, and then his cheeks and his neck. He can hear voices, gruff and low, but cannot understand everything they are saying. His eyelids feel like lead on his eyes, and he struggles to open them. His vision is blurry, and takes a while to clear up, but when it does, he is greeted by the one face he has both dreaded and wished to see the most.

“...Bella.”

 

**~ END CHAPTER 1. ~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read the first chapter, and left me kudos and/or feedback! After months not being able to write fic, it's such a relief to know that I still got some of "it," whatever "it" is.
> 
> Unfortunately, updates won't come quite as regularly as this from this point on, they may even come quite slow, but I intend to see this all the way through, so if at some point I take way too long to update, you're very welcome to poke me about it. :D
> 
> No warnings for this chapter just yet, but they'll come as the story progresses.

“...Bella.”

Bella shushes Fili gently, her eyes shining even as she strokes his hair. “It’s all right, Fili,” she says, “You’re home.”

There is a look of such tender affection on her face that Fili cannot help but smile. “Yes,” he breathes, “It appears I am.”

“What happened to you?” she asks, pulling away to help him sit up a little, “Bard said there’d been an accident.”

“There was,” Fili tells her, “Someone fell onto a scaffolding and sent it and a wall crashing down. There was someone in the way, I had to get him out of there. It cost me a little, but not much.”

“Not much?” Bella echoes, incredulous, “Look at the state of you!”

“I had a reaction to one of the cleaning salves,” Fili shrugs off dismissively.

“You’ve been asleep for nearly two days!” Bella informs him, and Fili gasps.

“Two days?” he repeats, “It can’t be.”

“We’ve been worried sick,” Bella sighs, resuming patting his face with the wet cloth, “Well, me mostly. But I’m glad you’re awake now. Although, I’m more glad to have you home again. It’s been _years_. I’ve missed you.”

Fili tries very, _very_ hard indeed not to read more to it than she means. “And Kili and Thorin too?” he asks, trying to redirect his thoughts.

Bella’s expression falls slightly. “The King has had many things on his mind lately, although I am sure he will ask about you,” she says, “And Kili...well...” There is something in her tone that suggests the need for worry, but she waves it off and smiles at him. “Maybe that’s a story best saved for when you are better, and more coherent.”

“Are you all right?” Fili cannot help but ask.

“Me?” Bella laughs dismissively, “I’m fine. I’m all right.”

“You seem tired,” Fili says before he can stop himself.

Again, Bella lets out a small chuckle. “The princess can be quite the handful when she chooses to be,” she says fondly, “There are nursemaids and governesses, of course, but I prefer to be as present in her life as possible.”

“So you had a girl then?” Fili asks her, “Congratulations. I’m sure she’s beautiful.”

He seems unable to keep his thoughts to himself around her. He decides to blame it on his injuries and fever.

“She is,” Bella says affectionately, “I can’t wait for you to meet your cousin, she’ll love you! She took to Kili like fish to water.”

But the word _cousin_ had jolted Fili back to reality. Of course Bella’s offspring would be his cousin. The daughter of the brother of his mother. His cousin. By the hobbit his heart seems to never have stopped longing for.

“Are you all right?” he hears Bella ask, and realizes his pain must be showing on his face, “Is something wrong? Should I get Oin?”

“No,” he replies, “I’ll be all right. My arm just twinged a little. It’s okay, it’s gone now.”

“Still, I should give you some time,” Bella tells him, patting him gently on his good arm, “I should inform the King that you are awake. I’m sure there is much you two will want to catch up on. And when you’re feeling better, I’ll bring the princess around to meet you.”

She bends forward and kisses him on the forehead. Fili feels a spark even after her lips leave his skin.

“Rest, my friend,” she says, standing from where she had been seated by his side, “It’s good to have you home.”

Her smile is sweet and promising. Or perhaps that is only how Fili sees it.

“It’s good to be home,” he tells her, and it is a lie, both to her and to himself, because it cannot be good if it gives him pain, and it cannot be home if it feels so unfamiliar. But he smiles when she smiles, and waves back when she waves goodbye to him, and cannot help but think as she leaves that she is glowing and beautiful as he is treacherous and on the road to ruin.

 

\--- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

It takes another two days before Fili’s fever finally breaks, and almost immediately he begins planning his next route. Oin and his healers won’t let him leave until his arm is fully healed, but he remains convinced of his strategy – keep busy, and he won’t think on things (or people) he should not be sparing thoughts for. He keeps his plans secret, and begs those who know not to let the Queen know, or he will surely be unable to leave.

He meets the princess, named Mizim, the day Oin decides he is well enough to leave the healing rooms. Bella bring her, and she is a bouncing ball of boundless energy. She has inherited her mother’s dusty blond curls and bright blue eyes, and her father’s strong nose and chin. She is big for a hobbit child, but small yet for a Dwarf child, but she already has a dusting of fine hair down her jawline and on the tops of her feet. She touches his face with soft hands, and her smile is as full of joy as it can possibly be.

“Fili,” she says in her little voice, “You are my cousin.”

“Yes, little treasure,” Fili greets, “and you are mine.”

“We look a little alike,” she observes, taking the tip of his nose between her small fingers, “Your nose is like mine.”

Fili returns the affectionate touch. “Yes it is!” he says, feigning shock, “Imagine that!”

Her fingers move to his beard, running along his jaw. “You have more hair here than me,” she quips, before moving her hands to herself, “So much hair there.”

“It is because I am grown, _ghivashith_ ,” he informs her, “Someday, you will be too, and you’ll have beautiful hair here that we can braid and fix to go with your crown.”

“I don’t want to wear a crown,” the little dwobbit pouts, “It’s heavy.”

“Then we shall fashion a light one for you,” Fili laughs.

“Will you wear one too?” she asks, eyes big and blue, “I will wear mine if you wear one too.”

Fili struggles for the right answer to give her. “In time, little cousin,” he says, kissing her forehead to avoid looking her in the eye and giving her hope.

“I think we’ve stayed long enough, darling,” Bella says gently, but Mizim wraps her arms around Fili’s neck.

“I want to stay with Fili,” she says, “He laughs like Kili does.”

Perhaps Bella sees the shadow that briefly crosses Fili’s face – he still doesn’t know why Kili hasn’t come to see him – because she draws Mizim away from Fili with the promise of cupcakes from Bombur’s kitchen. “We’ll come back here later, won’t we?” the little girl asks.

“I’ll be out in a few hours, little lass,” says Fili before Bella can reply, “I’ll come find you when I can, I promise.”

It is good enough for Bella, who passes Mizimto the governess waiting on them. The little princess turns and waves at Fili, who waves back as Bella turns to address Fili. Bella bids them to go ahead, telling her daughter she will follow shortly.

“She likes you,” she tells Fili.

“Why do you sound relieved?” Fili teases, and Bella chuckles, “She’s wonderful. She takes after you.”

“More like her father, I think,” Bella agrees, “Although she does have quite the penchant for running off without letting anyone know where she’s going.”

“Ah, the adventurous type,” Fili nods, “Your legacy goes on.”

“I shudder at the thought,” Bella giggles, “I’m glad you’re well now. The King will be glad to see you, although he sends his apologies that he had not been able to come sooner. He has left time for you today though; we sent news of your condition as soon as we found out.”

“Thank you,” says Fili, “But I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense,” Bella replies, waving a hand, “You are family. That should take precedence.”

Fili thinks something flashes in her eyes, but perhaps it was just a trick of the light. “I will go to him as soon as I can then,” he tells her, “In the meantime, I believe your duaghter was promised a cupcake party.”

“Oh!” Bella gasps in surprise, “I’d nearly forgotten! She’ll be waiting. Will you be all right?”

“I’m told someone is waiting to lead me to my chambers,” Fili snorts, “I’ll be fine. See to your little treasure.”

Bella gives him a small nod before turning to leave, and just as her daughter had done, just as she herself is wont to do, she turns at the door and offers him one more wave goodbye.

 Fili lets out a long, low breath. This is torture, painful torture, to be able to touch her but not the way his heart wants, to speak to her but not in the way he’d like to, to kiss her, but not how and where he has longed to. But then he had _known_ , had he not? He is here only because he had no choice, is he not? He’ll be gone as soon as he can be, will he not?

Even before he can finish convincing himself of this, he knows that one word from her would be almost enough to destroy his resolve.

 

~ **END CHAPTER 2. ~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **KHUZDUL TRANSLATIONS**
> 
> **_Mizim_** \- jewel
> 
> **_ghivashith_** \- "young treasure" or "treasure that is young"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's just a quick thank you from me to you, all of you who have stopped by and read this fic, have left me kudos and comments! I meant to have a new chapter up last weekend, but I prioritized a commissioned fic. Here's hoping this update makes up for how long it took. I would appreciate more feedback, I always do!

With his arm in a sling, Fili is led to the throne room in some of the more formal clothes he had elected to leave behind when he had left years ago. For some odd reason, he wonders at how these still fit him, but it lasts only half a moment before the heavy doors swing open.

The room is as full of angles as Fili remembers it, and the throne itself is as high and imposing a structure as it had been when Fili left. In fact, the only thing that seems to have changed is that the walls seem brighter, shinier, as if with the light of still embedded, unhewn gems. There are a few people milling about, and those that notice and recognize Fili give him a short bow. Fili feels undeserving – he has never _felt_ like a prince, he was not raised by his mother to be one. Trained to be an heir to the throne, yes, but being a prince has always been beyond anything Fili knows himself to be. He feels even less of a prince these days, knowing that there is a more direct heir now than he.

Thorin sits on his throne, in regal furs and glistening jewels and finery, a crown as angular as the throne room itself set majestically on his strong head. He has been letting his beard grow, it seems, and it makes him look...unfamiliar. He is talking to someone, perhaps an advisor, that Fili does not recognize, and his brow is furrowed and makes him look stern and heavy, but when he turns and sees Fili, he smiles easily, and Fili lets out a breath he did not know he had been holding in.

“ _Idmi_ , Fili!” Thorin greets brightly, far more cheerful than Fili ever remembers him being in recent years.

“ _Shamukh, Mhelekh_ ,” Fili returns, and Thorin waves him off.

“There is hardly any need for that much formality between us, nephew,” says the King, beckoning Fili forward, “ _Zur zu_?”

“ _Ghelekhur, Indad_ ,” Fili replies easily, although he knows it is not completely the truth.

“They tell me you had a horrid fever,” Thorin states, “That it kept you in bed for days.”

“They exaggerate,” Fili answers dismissively.

“I truly hope so,” supplies Thorin, “I find it hard to believe that anyone of the line of Durin, especially one that fought in and survived the Battle of Five Armies, would be pinned to a bed by a _fever_ , of all things.”

Fili is slightly taken aback, and he thinks Thorin actually _sneers_ , but the moment is fleeting. He clears his throat and changes the subject. “I see the renovations have been vastly successful so far,” he tries.

This brings a different light to Thorin’s face, and he gives the glittering chamber a sweeping look of pride. “They have,” he answers, “The progress slows every now and then, but the work has been highly effective. We have _you_ to thank for the able bodies and skilled workers that are helping to bring the gloriousness of Erebor back from the ashes. Trust that in time, your loyalty to the crown and to your people will be repaid in full.”

_Repaid_? No, Fili desires no recompense, not when he is merely doing his duty. Granted, he has used it as a distraction, and as an excuse to stay as far away from the mountain and its temptations for as long as possible, but still. Was it not Thorin himself who had taught them that doing one’s duty needed no reward?

“And what of Dale?” Thorin asks, pulling Fili out of his confused reverie, “I heard you were accompanied here by the King himself, and his daughter.”

“We have become great friends,” Fili answers, and if he had been looking carefully, he’d have seen a rather strange glint cross Thorin’s face ever so quickly, “The labourers work as hard as they can, but their supplies are dwindling. Tools, medicine, raw materials...It takes much longer than is ideal for outside help to arrive because of the weather; Erebor is the closest source. Perhaps a trade --”

“Much has already been given to Dale from Erebor’s reserves,” Thorin tuts, dismissing the notion as if it were nothing more than a bothersome fly, “We have our own labours to think about here.”

“Surely, _Indad_ , we have far more than enough?” Fili offers, “We all saw how much Smaug had hoarded in here, and --”

“Fili, if we continue to help them everytime they beg for our help, they will never learn to stand on their own feet,” Thorin interjects coldly, “Our home, our gold. Our people come first, Fili. Remember that.”

“Uncle --”

“ _Our_ gold, Fili.”

_Now_ Fili sees the flash of possessiveness that darkens the Mountain King’s expression and makes him pound a fist on the armrest of the throne. _Now_ Fili hears the ragged anger that is just bubbling under the surface. How did things escalate so quickly? Had he not just been welcoming Fili home not 10 minutes passed?

Fili finds himself wishing he had prepared better for this. Perhaps he should have asked someone. Perhaps he should have asked Bella.

_Bella..._

“The Queen, Your Majesty,” Fili inquires, “Might I ask where she is?”

Thorin squints his eyes down at Fili. “You might,” replies the King, his tone low, “But I can guarantee you no answer.”

In the future, Fili will regret not seeing more to this. He will wonder how it had only surprised him, but not worried him, that Thorin would answer him in such a way regarding Bella, of all people. He will beat himself up for not questioning the strange stiffness in Thorin’s voice, or how he had leaned forward almost threateningly before he gave a reply.

For now, Fili only swallows thickly, thinking about his next question, and whether it might further worsen his Uncle’s seemingly fragile temper.

“And what of my brother, Uncle?” he asks carefully, “I’ve not seen nor heard from Kili since I awoke.”

Thorin slumps backward into his chair, his foot over his knee. “Do not speak to me of that traitor,” he huffs, almost like an irritated adolescent, only worse, _much_ worse, “In as much as you shall one day be rewarded for your efforts in restoring Erebor’s glory, he will one day be punished for deserting his family and his home.”

_Kili? A traitor? Deserting?_ Fili’s mind is reeling. Is Kili not here in Erebor? How long has he been gone? Where _is_ he?

He opens his mouth to ask something else about Kili, risky though it may be, but Thorin smiles at him again, as if none of the tension that had been building up exists. “I hope your arm recovers quickly, Fili,” he says with a tiny nod, “There is much we have to talk about, and much that you must be shown.”

There is a finality in his tone that Fili is surprised to find he is grateful for. He gives his Uncle a deep bow and strides out of the throne room, feeling eyes on him as he goes. He has far more questions than he can handle or think about, and he thinks he knows exactly the person to get all the answers from.

It is only as the doors of the throne room close behind him that Fili sees the two major flaws of his plan. The first is that he has no idea where Bella might be at this moment. The second is that he has no idea where to start looking for her. He looks down the corridor to his left, and then to his right, and then realizes a third problem: he has not spent enough time inside Erebor to know where to go for _anything_. The only reason he had found the throne room at all was that he had followed a guide, who was not allowed to enter the throne room and seems to have disappeared.

Fili heaves a great sigh. It’s not as though he expected any of this to be easy. Had he not told Sigrid and Bard that returning here would not be ideal for him? This is not his _home_. Home was in the Blue Mountains, in the house his Uncle, father and Dwalin had build together just before Kili was born. Home was far, _far_ from here, and it was not very big, but it was comfortable and clean and cozy, because his Mother kept it so.

_His Mother._

Fili hasn’t seen her either, not since Thorin and Bella’s wedding ceremony. Is she not here either? What happened to her? Why has no one mentioned her to him, or even given him any news of her?

He only becomes aware that he had been pacing when he bumps into the very solid form of Dwalin. Fili nearly falls to the floor, but is able to steady himself in time, offering him a quick apology. He is cut off when Dwalin, chortling, grabs him bodily in a tight embrace that makes Fili think his bones are cracking.

“Arm! Arm!” he yelps, and indeed Dwalin is pinning his bad arm and causing him pain.

“Apologies, little prince,” Dwalin chuckles, setting him down, “It’s a relief to see you again, and on your feet so soon. I heard the fever was fairly debilitating.”

Fili feels himself frowning. “Where are all these rumors of my health coming from?” he asks, half-exasperated and half genuinely curious, “I was only asleep for two days!”

“It was enough to worry the Queen, wasn’t it?” Dwalin snorts, and Fili is reminded of his next course of action.

“The Queen, Dwalin,” Fili says, “Bella. Where is she?”

“Last I saw of her, she and the Princess were in Bombur’s kitchens,” Dwalin replies, but he had leaned in and told Fili this in a low voice, as if afraid that someone might hear them, although the corridor is deserted save for the two of them, “Officially, I’m not supposed to tell you, King’s orders, but I see no harm that can be done, so if you meet anyone on the way, do not tell them you heard it from me.”

“Er, right,” Fili sighs – even _more_ questions that need to be answered. Fantastic. “Listen, Dwalin, I’ve no idea where Bombur’s kitchens are. Mahal’s gifts, I’ve no idea where _anything_ is around here.”

“It does take some getting used to, I’ll give you that,” Dwalin chuckles, and he proceeds to direct Fili towards the kitchens, ending with an ominous, “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I...What...” Fili starts to say, but they hear the doors to the throne room opening, and Dwalin pats him on the back and heads towards them; apparently he has business or duty with Thorin. Left on his own again, Fili has no other choice (nor any other direction available to him) but to head for the private kitchens.

There are several twists and turns, and at least three flights of stairs, before he arrives at his destination. He can hear laughter, and can smell delicious pastries as though they were only just being pulled out of the kiln. He approaches carefully, knocking at the swinging wooden door before entering.

He finds Bella and Mizim sat a table, a seemingly fresh batch of cupcakes in front of them, along with an assortment of syrups and fillings and icings for decoration. Neither mother nor daughter notices Fili at first, so lost they are in the fun they’re having making funny faces on Bombur’s cupcakes and the mess they’re making on his table even as he whips up yet another batter. Fili is content to just stand here and watch the two of them, because it’s been so long since he’s seen Bella truly happy, and he thinks Mizim is beautiful, a little copy of her mother even down to the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles. The way Bella speaks to her daughter reminds Fili of the olden days, times when Bella was...well, more of a hobbit than she is these days. The regal stiffness of the stance he has often seen her in over the past few days and the formality of her speech have been quite unlike her, now that Fili thinks on it, and he wonders if perhaps it is because she has had to be Queen, a title she was not raised to carry in any capacity at all. Still, Fili thinks she fits the role quite nicely, almost as nicely as she fits the role of being a mother, a _hobbit_ mother.

Fili’s rather dreamy drifting comes to a screeching halt when he hears Mizim let out a gasp. His vision refocuses to see her looking at him, and it seems to him she’s about to call out to him, but Bella is suddenly on her feet, rushing over to him with a harrowed look on her face.

“What are you doing here?” she asks urgently, her voice a hoarse whisper.

“I...What?” Fili asks, surprised at her unexpected reaction.

“You can’t be here!” Bella tells him quickly, “You shouldn’t be here! Thorin will be angry!”

“No, he w --”

“Balin!”

Bella disappears into the room again, but before Fili can ask her anything, Balin takes her place at the door, ushering Fili out. “Come on, laddie,” he says in his kind, easy way, but there is still a desperate edge in his tone, “Come on then, out you get.” He shuts another set of wooden doors behind him, separating Fili from the kitchens, and takes Fili’s arm and begins to lead him away.

“Balin, w --”

“Yes, my prince, I know you’ve a lot of questions,” Balin interrupts, “Now, however, is not the best or right time to ask them. For now, let me lead you to your quarters. Any other assistance you might require can be given by the servants assigned to you.”

“When, then?” Fili asks even as Balin directs him to a separate wing, and if only Fili could concentrate on remembering where they’re going, so he can trace his steps in future, “When can I ask my questions? I have many.”

“Truth be told, Fili,” Balin sighs, “Probably never.”

“Never?!”

“Never. I’m sure you can tell things have been...Well, let’s just say they’ve been less than ideal, especially where the King and his most treasured possessions are concerned. At this point, my lad, it is far better for you – and everyone else - to find things out for yourself instead of asking about them.”

“But --”

“Not _now_ , Fili.”

Fili has spent enough time with Balin to know when not to push him. He spends the rest of the walk to the chambers prepared for him in silence, though he balls his free fist in an attempt to do so. They are much too far from the kitchens now, and Fili cannot remember exactly how many turns or how many corridors or how many steps it took to get here from the kitchens.

“One question, please,” he asks of Balin as the old Dwarf pushes a giant stone door open and leads Fili inside what looks like a receiving room, “Just the one, and I shall not trouble you with any more of them, at least for today.”

Balin lets out an exasperated sigh as he unlocks another door, and when it swings open, Fili realizes this is his bedroom. “One question,” he agrees.

Fili chooses carefully, wondering which one would have the least amount of repurcussions should the apparently wrong people find out that Fili has been _asking things_.

“Where is my mother?”

Balin’s face falls, his shoulders sagging, and he exhales raggedly. Fili thinks he has never seen him look older or more tired in his entire life.

When Balin answers, Fili wishes he hadn’t asked in the first place.

“Your mother is dead, Fili.”

 

**~ END CHAPTER 3. ~**

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **KHUZDUL TRANSLATIONS**
> 
> **_Idmi!_** \- Welcome!
> 
> **_Shamukh, Mhelekh!_** \- Hail, King!
> 
> **_Zur zu?_** \- How are you?
> 
> **_Ghelekhur, Indad._** \- Fine, Uncle.


	4. Chapter 4

Fili does not hear from Balin – or from anyone – how his Mother had died.

He is told to remain in his quarters, and to know every twist and turn of the reawakening kingdom as he can, but never to venture further than he is assigned to at any given moment.

He is told where to go, how to dress, what to say.

He is kept to a schedule of overseeing the repairs and rebuilding in the mornings, and the security of the treasury in the afternoons. In between, he joins negotiations meetings with Thorin, but is never allowed much input. Far more than just a shame, as many of the decisions Thorin lays down these days, usually with firm fists and harsh tones, are far from agreeable. Certainly far from anything Fili had once known his Uncle to be like.

He has never set foot inside the treasury. He isn’t allowed. No one will tell him why, only that he can’t. When he dared bring up the difficulties of guarding something he has not even seen or is barely able to fathom the size of, Balin merely tutted impatiently and hissed warningly about “too many questions.”

It is a rigid lifestyle, and Fili is quickly sickening of it. He finds himself often cursing his arm, wondering when it will heal fully and why it won’t heal quicker. He thinks sometimes that he can feel his saliva drying inside his mouth; It isn’t that there’s no one to talk to, it’s that few are _allowed_ to talk to him.

The few who _can_ and _do_ speak with him are all blessings in disguise in their own little ways, and Fili tries to not think about what limitations have been set upon them when discoursing with him. Balin, for instance, speaks to him only of duties and tasks and responsibilities, and barely spares a random, spontaneous thought or word anymore. No more compelling tales of the days he has lived through. No more quick smiles and reassuring compliments. No more sharp quips and easy laughter. Fili misses the Balin of old.

Dwalin, though, seems to be attempting to make up for the both of them. Fili has other sources of news, true, but Dwalin always seems to know the most. He knows when Thorin is in one of his “moods,” or when he’s pleased with the progress of the Mountain. He knows how supplies being traded out become fewer and fewer these days, and how the gold reserve seems to grow with every blink of his eyes. He knows what Bombur is making for lunch for the royal family and how Bofur and Bifur’s latest invention might quicken the rebuilding of Erebor. He knows when Sigrid and Bard have come calling, asking after Fili and his health. Yes, Dwalin seems to know and offer the most, just not much about what Fili _yearns_ to hear about the most.

Dwalin never speaks of Dis, or whether or not he knows more than most people think. He never tells Fili about Bella, or little Mizim, other than to say that he saw them that morning, or that Bella’s dress suited her, or that Mizim seems excited and bored at the same time and reminds Dwalin much of Fili in his youth. Dwalin never even brings up Kili of his own accord, and when Fili does, Dwalin would only shake his head and say “He’s better off where he is.”

“But where _is_ he?” Fili presses stubbornly one morning, as he allows Dwalin to lead him to the south mines.

“That is on a need-to-know basis,” Dwalin huffs, waving off a soldier who had just bowed at them.

“And as his brother, am I not one who needs to know?” Fili insists.

“No, you’re not,” Dwalin replies, and he’s starting to sound irritated.

Fili decides to push his luck a final time. “Well why in the name of Mahal’s hammer is that so?”

Dwalin rounds on him just as Fili’s feet find the final step of the stone stairs they’d been descending. “Because not even your Uncle knows,” he hisses, tone low and conspiratorial, but he sighs his temper away, “Listen, lad. I’ve been sworn to secrecy by the sanest mind I recognize as a sovereign at this point. It’s far better that your Uncle is kept in the dark. All he knows is that Kili has fled. Thinks him a traitor for it, but his idea of loyalty has been skewed for a long, long time now. No, I can’t tell you because I said I wouldn’t, and because so far, she doesn’t think you’re ready to be told.”

She. _She_.

“Bella?”

Dwalin’s brows come down hard as he tilts his head at Fili, a quick warning flashing on his face. “Yes, prince,” he says, “ _The Queen_ insists that you not be told either, not while you’re in the King’s good graces somewhat. It’s to protect you _and_ your brother. Now can we leave it at that and get back to what it is we’re here for?”

As always, Fili is left with more questions than answers. Why would Bella, of all people, keep anything from Thorin? Is she not his wife? Does she not love him? Do they not talk?

He keeps these questions to himself for now; Dwalin didn’t even give Fili enough time to ask him to wait before he had pivoted and marched down the torch-lit path to the main mines.

Here, he reverts to the submissive, dutiful Fili the rest of the kingdom has been trying to turn him into. He listens carefully to all of Dwalin’s instructions, asks only the questions that will add information, notes what he must, addresses those who greet him, makes suggestions for the improvement of the work and calmly accepts those of the workers’.

Fili _hates_ it all.

“Boring work, isn’t it?” Dwalin snorts, hands behind his back as he and Fili begin their long trek back out of the mines, “Standing around, taking inventory of what’s being dug out, trying to care about what it might mean for the kingdom if we struck a mother lode again…”

Fili replies with a non-committal shrug, the most respectful answer he can think of.

“I’m going to choose to tell you something, lad, and I’ll thank you not to let anyone know that you know this,” Dwalin says, continuing to walk, but his voice drops, and Fili has to quicken his pace to match Dwalin’s long strides.

“Naturally,” Fili answers, trying his damnedest best not to show how eager he is for any sliver of supposedly secret knowledge Dwalin is about to impart.

Dwalin takes a deep breath. “I know you’re eager to get back out there,” he tells Fili, “And believe me, I know it’s not just because of…well, all this. I know it’s because of the Queen, and you’d be an idiot to think you and I or Kili are the only ones who know. I know this isn’t exactly the home you’d been promised when we left the Blue Mountains, and I know this is a far more thankless job than protecting our borders and sending able bodies back here to continue to do so. And the fact is, Fili, that while you’ve been chomping at the bits to heal, we’ve had enough supplies and skilled medics to have sent you back out weeks ago.”

This makes Fili freeze. Rooted to the spot, he can feel an anger bubbling in his blood. What does he mean Fili could have been out _ages_ ago? Have they trapped him here?

Dwalin hisses at him to catch up again, and though Fili makes the effort, he can feel himself seething. He says nothing as Dwalin trudges on.

“You’re needed here,” Dwalin intimates, casting his eyes around surreptitiously to check that no one is paying enough attention to them to understand what they might hear him saying, “This place isn’t _safe_ anymore, not for those who hoped it would be. We lost a protector when Kili left, and things haven’t been the same since. But with you here, things might just change again, this time for the better.”

Fili shakes his head. “Putting aside my absolute _rage_ right now over the fact that I have been _imprisoned_ here,” he replies, “I’m not fit to fill Thorin’s shoes, no matter what he has become. I can’t take his place and rule the kingdom.”

Dwalin stops and grabs Fili by the shoulders. “I’m not talking about the kingdom, you numpty,” he growls, “I’m talking about _the Queen_.”

Anger is swiftly replaced by confusion and worry. “The Queen?” Fili echoes lamely.

Dwalin tugs him along as he starts walking again, his pace a little more hurried this time. “The Queen is in danger,” Dwalin mutters, “For as long as she’s Queen, she’s in danger. For as long as Thorin is the way he is, she’s in danger. If Thorin worsens – and believe me, he hasn’t been better since it first got worse – there’s no telling what could happen to her. I could say it’s a miracle she’s lasted this long, but it’s not. She’s been through a lot, lad. She suffers a lot, always on her own, always in silence, putting on a brave face for her husband to see, but inside she is _terrified_. She still thinks she can ‘fix him,’ but I think he’s far beyond that, and no one, I tell you, _no one_ wants it to get to a point where _I_ am proven right.”

Fili takes this all in quietly, wondering how in the world he could have been so selfish to gripe about his arm.

Dwalin, unfortunately, isn’t finished. “Thorin doesn’t see her as a wife. He sees her as a possession. Equal, almost, to the treasure he hoards behind his damned treasury. He’s sick with greed for her as he’s sick with greed for his gold. He doesn’t know this, of course, doesn’t understand that he’s clutching on to her with a vice-like grip and that it’s stifling her. She’s become quiet, submissive, stiff, lonely. She’s not the hobbit she used to be, and if she’s not seen to, soon she may just…not _be_ anything.”

“What should I do?” The words are out before Fili is even aware of his tongue forming them.

“Protect her,” Dwalin answers, “Be her guardian. I’ll do whatever I can to convince Thorin, because he trusts you. Protect her from him without alerting him to the fact that you are.”

“Is that what happened to Kili?” Fili can’t help but ask, “Did he find out?”

Dwalin groans and rolls his eyes, slapping Fili across the back of the head. “Didn’t I already say I’m not telling you anything?” he tuts, “Just agree to this, for now, and I’m sure you’ll get all your damned questions answered in time.”

“What makes you think I’m the right person for the job?” Fili shoots back, “Why can’t _you_ do it? Or someone else do it?”

Dwalin raises an eyebrow at him. “Do you see anyone else who _could_?” he snorts, “I can’t do it because I need to be as close to Thorin as possible. I’m the captain of his guard, I don’t have a choice. There are few people allowed direct communication and contact with the Queen and her child, even less than the number of people allowed inside the treasury, so that should tell you something. He knows every single one of these people he allows to see her, trusts they will do nothing to incur his wrath, but he also thinks they all pale in comparison to _him_ ; he thinks it’ll help her keep wanting him to have apparently less appealing Dwarves around her to remind her of what she _does_ have.”

“That doesn’t sound like Thorin at all,” Fili frowns sceptically.

“Boy, he hasn’t sounded like himself since we first made it here all those years ago,” Dwalin points out, “He’s _changed_. Put aside whatever loyalty you have to him as an Uncle and you’ll recognize that the King that sits on the throne of Erebor is a dark shell of the Dwarf who fought to take it back in the first place. Whoever that imposter is, he’s not the Uncle who raised you, who you nearly died for in a battle you were never ready for. Stop hoping that he still is.”

This, perhaps more than anything else that Fili has learned or heard since he had been brought back here, jolts Fili to the seriousness of it all. Dwalin, Thorin’s most trusted friend, forever fiercely loyal to him, demanding that he _put_ loyalty to Thorin aside. And for a being not even of their own _race_.

“Fili,” Dwalin huffs, and Fili realizes they’ve stopped just outside the entrance to the pathways, “I watched you grow up. I know your heart. I know how your Mother raised you. If I were your father, I’d be immensely proud of what you’ve become. We’re not asking for more than what you are. We’re asking you _to do the right thing_ , even if it meant your life.”

“It’s as though you expect me to decline,” Fili snorts.

“Many have,” Dwalin replies with a shrug, “we have their silence, but nothing more. Too afraid of the King, too fearful for their lives and their loved ones.”

“So I am a last resort then?”

Dwalin whaps him on the back of the head again. “Must you twist my words into something negative every damn time, you twit?!” he growls, “I am asking you because I know you’re in love with her, and I know you’ll give everything you can to ensure her safety, even if it meant giving your Uncle your own sword to cut off your own fucking head. I’m asking you because while I _think_ you’ll refuse, I _know_ you’ll do it, but I want _you_ to know that you’re going to do it, and what you’re doing it for, and what you risk by agreeing. I’m asking you because my own brother doesn’t believe you _will_. Don’t you fucking prove him right, Fili. Don’t you make us both look fools, but don’t you do it just to prove a point to an aging councillor. Do it because you can, because it’s _right_ , and because you _fucking want to_.”

Fili fixes Dwalin with as straight and as serious a look as he can muster, considering how much girth Dwalin still holds over him.

“I was never going to say no.”

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

Dwalin knocks on the door in what Fili belated realizes is a rhythm, perhaps a code of some sort. The wooden door swings open a fraction, and Fili sees Balin peeking out at them.

“I’ve brought Fili,” Dwalin tells him simply, and Balin seems to understand, because he throws the door open then to let them through.

There is Bella, sweet and smiling and laughing, and there is Mizim, running around in tiny circles while her mother playfully chases her with a stuffed animal. Bella’s curls are loose and free, and her clothes are simple and weightless. There is color in her cheeks and a pleasant disarray to her whole appearance. She looks much more like the hobbit the Company had come to know and love. More like the hobbit Fili had lost his heart in.

At the sight of Dwalin, both mother and daughter freeze, and Bella’s face falls. Dwalin puts up his hands as if in surrender.

“He’s fine,” Dwalin reassures her, and Fili thinks it might help to stay behind him, a good distance away from her and closer to the door, to show her he doesn’t mean to intrude without purpose, “He’s here for you.”

Fili watches Bella’s body and stance relax a little, but her eyes remain wary. “For us?” she echoes, “You mean…”

Dwalin inclines his head towards Fili and gives him a small nod, which Fili takes as his cue. He steps forward slowly, remembering to keep distance between him and the pair. “My Queen,” he begins, giving her a small bow, “I am aware of the situation and am prepared to lay my sword at your feet in service, or my life should I fail.”

Mizim lets out a tiny noise, almost like a whimper, and takes a few steps towards Fili, but Bella holds her back. She holds Fili’s gaze as long as possible, as if searching him for any sign of insincerity or cunning, but to Fili’s relief, she sighs. The tension leaves her, but is replaced by a strange sort of melancholy.

“My friend, you are very, _very_ kind,” she says at last, leading Mizim to a governess, “But I cannot ask you to do this. I cannot ask you to risk your life for me. For _us_.”

“Like how we did not ask to invade you home and take you on a quest that you haven’t returned home from yet?” Fili snorts, offering a tiny laugh.

“I came of my own free will,” Bella reminds him, although she returns the chuckle.

“As I do now,” Fili promises. He takes a step back, gives her his most winning smile, and bows deeply. “Fili, at your service.”

Fili does not expect the tinkling laugh she lets out, or the little curtsy she gives him. He’s taken completely by surprise when she closes the distance between them and throws her arms around him. He lets out a small gasp, and her weight bends him a little at the waist, but he could care less. He circles his arms around her and presses her in tight, stroking her hair with one hand.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and Fili can hardly tell if other people heard, “Thank you, Fili.”

Her curls are soft under his palm. Her embrace is warm and full. She smells like berries and sunshine. Her heartbeat is steady and soothing against his chest.

“You’re welcome,” is all he manages to say.

It doesn’t feel enough for her. Nothing ever does.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
